


Sand Cube Assignment - The Homework Every Jedi Hates

by CassEastham



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Family, Gen, Humor, Jedi Temple, Jedi Training, No Romance, No Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-23
Updated: 2015-10-28
Packaged: 2018-04-27 16:59:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5056576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CassEastham/pseuds/CassEastham
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Obi-Wan receives sage guidance from his master during a particularly difficult lesson, but it is not until he is an adult that Obi-Wan learns the truth behind the assignment, and Anakin's response to it is decidedly less than spectacular. As Obi-Wan tries to enforce discipline with the boy, tempers flare between the Too-Young-Master and Too-Old-Apprentice until an insult cuts to the core. Perhaps this pairing wasn't such a good idea after all. In order to maintain this Master-Apprentice team, Obi-Wan has to prove his worth by demonstrating expertise with a Force skill he doesn't actually have.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. SCA 1 Obi-Wan's Defiance

### Sand Cube Assignment   1          Obi-Wan's Defiance

Refusal.

Absolute refusal.

He couldn’t do it. So he refused to do it.

And no Jedi Master in the whole Temple was going to make him!

Obi-Wan sat on the couch, his hands tucked into his armpits in a tight hug. His legs were still so short that his knees were flat on the cushion and only his ankles wiggled in the free air. His socks were falling off by a few centimetres, flopping from his toes like puppets. His boots lay where they landed in the middle of the floor, not far from his crumpled robe, and his practice lightsaber.

Obi-Wan’s eyes remained fixed on the holonet where he had figured out Master Qui-Gon’s code and programmed in the Animal Shows. Non-sentient creatures of unnaturally bright colors played through shallow plots of slapstick comedy, fighting over dinner or a pretty girl. It was stuff seven-year-old ‘mundanes’ watched, not stuff seven-year-old Jedi watched, but since Obi-Wan Kenobi was never going to make it as a Jedi, he may as well start practicing how to be a ‘mundane’.

He was so resolute in this, in fact, he maintained a darn good confidence about his decision until the door to the apartment opened, and his Jedi Master stepped in.

Obi-Wan listened but he didn’t look. While he concentrated his eyes on the holonet, he secretly watched his Master out of his peripheral vision.

Boot steps paused.

Obi-Wan’s composure began to melt already. In an effort to solidify his resolve, he tightened his mouth so firmly that his little nose wrinkled too.

The door slid closed and beeped to lock. Big boots shuffled to the closet. A robe came off and was hooked away. Obi-Wan listened to the quiet beeps of the enviro control and a _clop_ when the utility belt landed on a counter top.

Obi-Wan began to wonder if Master yet noticed the robe and boots on the floor. He flicked his eyes to peek for an expression but the towering man’s back was to him at that moment. Obi-Wan tightened his teeth and pulled his eyes back to the holonet, staring without seeing. He wiggled his feet at the ankles to flop the sock-toes in a fidget as he recited the speech in his mind again— except that he’d forgotten the whole thing already.

Giraffe legs strolled between him and the holonet and Qui-Gon sat down on the couch beside him. He dropped his hands between his knees, rested his back against the couch with a weary, long-day sigh, and watched the holonet too.

Obi-Wan tightened his hands under his armpits some more. His eyes tried to shift but he could only see Qui-Gon’s lap.

After a long minute, Qui-Gon blurted out a weary chuckle. “Are you really being entertained by this ludicrous cartoon?”

Obi-Wan pressed his mouth. He wanted to say 'yes' just to be defiant, but it wouldn’t be true. And he didn’t want to say 'no' because that would be giving in too soon. “It’s better than the alternative.”

“And what would that ‘alternative’ be?”

Obi-Wan chewed on his lower lip and popped it out again. “I’m not going to do my chores. I’m not going to pick up my robe. I’m not going to put away my lightsaber. And I’m _not_ going to work on the _stupid sand cube_!” He glared hard over at his Master with a clear expression, _And no one is going to make me!_

Qui-Gon looked over his long nose at him and nodded with deep understanding. “I see.” After considering this, he gestured lightly toward the holonet. “So, instead, you are going to spend your afternoon staring at a cartoon and being angry.”

“Yes!” Obi-Wan lifted his chin with borrowed pride. "That is precisely what I'm going to do."

Qui-Gon shifted, curling over sideways to bump his shoulder against Obi-Wan’s. “And that is going to accomplish… _what_? Exactly?”

“Nothing!” Obi-Wan insisted. “That’s the point! I’m accomplishing nothing anyway! So, instead, I’m going to accomplish nothing while doing something that’s kind of…” his brow wrinkled, “fun.”

Qui-Gon rolled his head to grimace at the purple banana and orange tortoise arguing about who spilled the hoisa sauce on the carpet. “You consider this fun?”

It _was_ a stupid show.

“Well, mundanes think it’s fun.” Obi-Wan shrugged. “So it must be fun. I just don’t know how to _do_ fun. Since Jedi don’t get to learn about 'fun'.” Obi-Wan braced himself for a reprimand over calling them ‘mundanes’ but it didn’t come.

Qui-Gon quieted his voice. “What was the assignment?”

“A stupid tree!” Obi-Wan cried. “A _tree_!” He whipped his hand in the air. “A sphere, I can do! A pyramid, I can do! But a _tree_? With leaves and everything? How is making sand trees ever going to help me be a Jedi Knight?”

Qui-Gon pursed his lips, probably trying not to grin at all this, and watched the holonet instead of his apprentice having a temper tantrum.

Obi-Wan lifted his chin and steeled himself to lay out the final blow. “I don’t want to be a Jedi anymore.”

Qui-Gon glanced over. “Wow.” He folded his arms at his chest and slumped a little. “This is quite serious.”

Obi-Wan stared at the cartoon without seeing it.

“What do you plan to do next?” Qui-Gon asked curiously.

Obi-Wan clenched his jaw. He hadn’t thought that far ahead. But he wasn’t going to let it show.

“Perhaps I should help you pack?” Qui-Gon offered.

Obi-Wan’s heart soured. He looked over to the large man in shock and insult only to find innocent surprise on Qui-Gon's face, in full support of the boy's decision. Obi-Wan blinked away tears and pulled his eyes to stare at the cartoon again.

“No. No, of course not. You’re a man of resourcefulness. Independent enough to go out on your own. I’m sure you’re capable of packing everything yourself.” Qui-Gon unraveled his arms and looked around. “Did you pack the sand cube already?”

Obi-Wan swallowed hard. “I threw it away.”

“In the refuse bin?” Qui-Gon nearly smiled but shut his mouth quickly. His eyes grew firm even though he wasn’t looking at Obi-Wan. “Get it for me, please.”

Obi-Wan slid a glare over and grew angrier. With a huff, he unraveled his arms and pushed to get off the—

A large hand moved in his way, stopping him from climbing off the couch by gesture alone.

Qui-Gon’s voice was stiff. Cold eyes on him. “No. I didn’t say ‘ _go'_ get it. I said, ‘ _get it_.’”

Obi-Wan gritted his teeth.

Qui-Gon swished a finger in the air and the holonet shut off. His brow arched at Obi-Wan with a calm order. “Get it.”

Obi-Wan slouched and huffed out his nose with frustration. He took a deep breath, smashed his eyes shut and lifted both hands. His mind went into the garbage chute to find it. His nose wrinkled at the smell even though he couldn’t smell it. He found the cube sitting in the incinerator waiting to be fried with the trimmings from this morning’s breakfast. His control stumbled. He grabbed it and dropped it, grabbed it and dropped it, grabbed it and managed to pull it up through the chute with Force Telekinesis.

Qui-Gon lifted his face to see it as it came out of the chute door and hovered over the counter in the kitchen. “Wash it off before you bring it over.”

Obi-Wan managed the thing to move in a wavering stumble until it dropped into the hyposink. He huffed again to concentrate now on the faucet handle, turned it on full bore, and then turned it off again. Neither of them could see it from this angle so there was no convenient way to know if he’d washed it all off before bringing it the rest of the way into the living room. It floated slowly into view around the corner.

Qui-Gon shifted his shoulders into a comfortable lounge against the couch. “Put it on the table.”

Obi-Wan brought it over and dropped it on the empty drink table in front of them. It still had the brown goo of gravy clinging to one corner, but the goo didn’t block the view of the blue and white evenly mixed sand inside the solid transparent cube.

“Okay.” Qui-Gon cocked his head. “Let’s not start with a tree. Let’s start with eh... just separate the colors.”

“I told you. I don’t want to be a Jedi anymore.”

Qui-Gon rolled his head over on his neck. “Heh. Don’t sit there and try to tell me you are never going to use Telekinesis again, Jedi or no.”

“Even if I do use it, I’m not gonna make sand trees with it.”

“Fair to say, but we're not making a tree. We're just separating the colors.”

“That’s easy because the sand is different weights.” Obi-Wan sighed with impatience at his Master's ignorance and focused on the thing. He sifted the blue and white sand to jiggle away from each other like oil and water, blue on top and white settling to the bottom. Once done, he crossed his arms at his chest and lifted his chin in defiance again.

“All right. You can do simple shapes. Like a sphere? Right?”

Obi-Wan lifted both hands, squinted one eye, and easily smashed the blue sand into a sphere nestled within the translucent white.

Qui-Gon angled his head and studied it. “All right. Now make a cylinder out of it.”

Obi-Wan cocked his head and lifted one hand, arranging the blue sand to nestle back into the white, working the sides into a barrel, and flattening the top.

“Skinnier.”

Obi-Wan worked it and tried to spread the blue sand taller so the cylinder would be thinner. It stuck out above the flattened white sand like a stick in the mud and pressed up against the top of the cube.

“That’s awfully tall. Bumping its head up against the top there. Looks like me.”

Obi-Wan tried to pin back his smile. He worked to be angry again.

“Do me a favor, then. Do something with my hair there. Spread it out a little so I’m not banging my head against the ceiling.”

Obi-Wan took a quick swipe and smashed the top of the cylinder until it bowed like a broken neck.

“Ouch.” Qui Gon rubbed his own head.

Obi-Wan sniggered, but he tried to bite his lips shut.

“Can I have some arms?”

Obi-Wan watched with one eye and squinted with the other, trying to make blue arms come out of the blue cylinder.

Qui-Gon was patient, humored, making fun with it. “Give me some crazy hair.”

Obi-Wan grinned and sat up. He concentrated and pulled out little strings of sand from the top of the cylinder into a wild spray of hair on top of a post. It looked like a frayed knot at the end of a rope.

He dropped his hand when he was done and cocked his head, envisioning the little image to be his tall Master with a wild hairdo. It looked like it belonged in a holonet cartoon.

Qui-Gon crossed his arms at his chest and shuffled deeper into the couch until his body was crookedly considering the image with a scrutinous eye. “You know what?” He turned his head to look down at Obi-Wan. “That kind of looks like a tree.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes flashed to the blue sand blob, only now recognizing it from that perspective. Defeated for not being defeated, he cocked his chin and flopped out a tight frown. He shuffled back on the couch and tucked his hands back in his armpits.

Qui-Gon sighed out an open mouth to watch his apprentice for a long while, but Obi-Wan refused to meet the man's eye.

Qui-Gon gently elbowed him with a secret. “It is okay for a Jedi to ask for help.”

Obi-Wan stretched his eyes over, trying to stay mad, trying to stay defiant. His lower lip rippled. That sand cube made him so _frustrated_!

Qui-Gon pressed his lips together and nodded. He sat up higher on the couch and wrapped his arm around Obi-Wan shoulders, pulling him over whether the young man liked it or not. Obi-Wan fell into it, crunching his teeth to try to stay angry and squeezing his eyes shut to fight the tears.

“For what it’s worth,” Qui-Gon whispered near the top of his head. “ _I_ don’t want you to quit.”

“Why not?” Obi-Wan grumbled into the shoulder. "I can't even make a tree in a sand cube."

Qui-Gon continued to whisper. “Because without an apprentice, I would have to do _real_ Jedi work.”

Obi-Wan sniffed and tried not to grin at it, “Yeah, without me, who would you get to pick up your robe?”

Qui-Gon arched his brow down at him. “It isn't _my_ robe lying on the floor.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes turned toward the opening of the living room, remembering his trail of defiance.

“Pick it up, please.” It was an order.

Obi-Wan resigned himself to do his duty and started to get off the couch.

Qui-Gon’s hand gestured to stop him. “No no,” the man smirked. “I didn’t say, ‘ _go'_ pick it up.”

Obi-Wan slumped back against the couch, tried not to grin at Qui-Gon, looked at the robe, and lifted his hands to the air.

 


	2. SCA 2 Masters' Meeting

**Sand Cube Assignment   2              Masters' Meeting**

 Obi-Wan scratched the new stubble on his chin as he stepped through the library and found seven of his peers waiting in the deep, unfrequented corner of the stacks. It was an obscure place for a Masters' Meeting, and an obscure time for one too. Their students would be released from class in just a few minutes. As it was, Obi-Wan received news of this meeting late in the day, long after any convenient chance to let Anakin know he wouldn't be there to pick him up this afternoon.

It wasn't a big worry, for all padawans of this class were safe inside the Temple, and most younglings rarely found trouble when unattended anyway, ( _most_ of them), but masters of padawans were expected to be waiting outside of class to pick up their apprentices daily. Obi-Wan expected this meeting to be quick.

He bowed in friendly greeting to Master Kirano who grinned easily back. The eight of them stood in silence along the dark hallway with nods of hello to each other. Questions began flitting through his mind, as well as the minds of seven others. Where was the other dozen young Masters of this class? Why did only the human Masters show up? Where was Master Windu who called this thing in the first place? Obi-Wan tucked back his robe to pull the chrono from his belt.

"Do you know what this one is about?" Master Kirano muttered to him, his whisper seemed to amplify in the echoing silence of the hall.

Obi-Wan shook his head and stuffed his chrono back on his belt. He shrugged as he looked back over his shoulder to the main entry of the library. Mace Windu and Yoda were strolling in just then, walking slowly and muttering to each other.

"Here they come." Obi-Wan announced and clasped his hands together in front of him again.

"Where is everyone else?" Kirano suddenly queried in a quick whisper. He glanced to young Master Shisha, who in turn shook his head and shrugged too.

"Maybe we're in trouble," Shisha joked, his eyes peeking around the corner to the approaching Masters of Masters.

No one got the chance to respond more than a grin. The crowd parted to let Master Yoda walk through on his short legs, and in no hurry to do so. Mace Windu followed the little green man without a glance to any of them. They silently flowed into the room one by one to follow these higher-ranking Jedi with respect and patience.

Master Yoda stepped to a seat on the side of the room and levitated himself into it. Master Windu paused to close the old hinge door behind the eight young men with a scowl on his face. Eight zufas were arranged on the floor in dais toward one side of the room, curiously not aimed at Yoda's perch. This wasn't anyone's first time here, albeit the room was rarely used for formal purposes. It was where they all learned, many years ago, what came to be known as the Tree Meditation. The Tree Meditation was a particularly difficult self-inflicting mind-trick requiring both alertness and deep peace in which the subject was to meditate on a painting of a tree until they saw the leaves moving in the breeze.

Of course, there was no breeze in the room. There wasn't even a window, only single painting of a mature tree standing alone in a slope of grass, and just enough space for up to a dozen people to sit and discuss how difficult it was to _make_ themselves see the painting move.

Obi-Wan unraveled his robe from his arms and tossed it to the side so he could squat down on a sepia zufa. Kirano settled down on the zufa next to him, eyeing Master Windu as he strode to the front of the dais. The elder Master's eyes remained hard on his own feet as he stepped to the front looking like he'd just received the worst of news.

Obi-Wan's brow flicked at the man's demeanor. _Maybe we are in trouble. _

The young masters glanced at each other with questions and curiosity while Master Windu's back was turned. The elder rummaged through a medium-sized burlap sack on the little table under the tree painting.

Tinak, legs crossed and hands easily on his knees, leaned to Shisha's shoulder and whispered his best guess at an explanation to all this. "They're getting their sand cube assignment today."

This brought instant alarm to Obi-Wan. Remembering how poorly he handled the impossible assignment, he was terrified how Anakin was going to handle it, especially without supervision. His fists pushed against his zufa to get up—

"Somewhere to go, do you, Master Kenobi?" Master Yoda queried.

All looked at Obi-Wan. Mace Windu turned from his task to glare.

Obi-Wan's mouth paused open. His body froze half-raised out of the round seat. He looked to Master Yoda with urgency. "Yes, Master. I request to be excused. Our students are getting the sand cube assignment today?" He squeaked to confirm.

Yoda slowly drooped his eyelids and nodded.

Obi-Wan shook his head. He was the youngest of the Masters and yet his student was older than all of theirs. Anakin was eleven and attending classes with seven-year-olds, which was difficult enough on the boy's demeanor. "My apprentice isn't likely to handle this assignment well," Obi-Wan informed apologetically. "He'll need help."

Master Windu angled his chin. "Have you no confidence in the abilities of your apprentice?"

Obi-Wan's eyes widened. "Of his _skill_ , yes. His self-control, however…" he grimaced dramatically to make his point.

"Stay, you will." Yoda instructed firmly and motioned Obi-Wan to sit back down.

With a silent sigh, Obi-Wan settled and dropped his hands into his lap. As Master Windu finished preparing himself for this meeting, Obi-Wan snuck in a quick, closed-eyed meditation to rally his patience and calm his worry.

"Good idea," Master Windu grumbled.

Obi-Wan opened his eyes to find Master Windu was gesturing to him and motioned to the others. "Five minutes of meditation."

Shisha squinted one eye at the standing man. "They're going to be out of class in moments, Master."

Mace Windu nearly yelled it, shooting the word at Shisha like a projectile weapon. " _Now_."

Obi-Wan and Kirano exchanged glances. Shisha sighed and accepted it. All eight Masters in Training settled into their meditations like the professionals they had become. (No one bothered to eye the tree painting to visualize it moving in the breeze, however, for there was no way that level of concentration could be accomplished in five minutes anyway.)

Obi-Wan meditated deeply, calming his emotions and unraveling his worries, gently reining back in any wandering thoughts. But the focus of this particular assignment and its related history kept a thread in his mind anchored with feelings. Even after a determined focus to clear his mind, he discovered an under-layer of lament for Qui-Gon Jinn. Mild as they were, they were, as yet, unresolved.

Obi-Wan accepted it. He still had work to do.

Mace Windu pierced the silence with a loud voice. "Your students _are_ getting their sand cube assignments today."

Obi-Wan's eyes popped open, as did all the others, to find a single sand cube sitting on the floor in front of each of them. His shoulders melted with premature defeat at the transparisteel cube on the carpet in front of him. The translucent white sand and the heavier hot pink sand was a mixed up mess as if Mace Windu had scrambled it before setting it down.

Kirano exhaled a wry grin through his nose and let out a tiny, smiling whine. "Awe, man!"

Obi-Wan and Shisha fought back groans and grins.

Tinak dared to smile up at Master Windu. " _Please_ don't tell me we have to do this one again."

Shisha's head whipped to Tinak, gritting teeth smiling in exasperation, his very audible voice tightened to try to be quiet. "No. Tinak! You fool! _Never_ say anything like that to Master Windu."

"Never say that to _any_ Master," Kirano muttered wisely.

Obi-Wan's eyes stretched to the side to watch Master Windu step in front of Tinak and glare down like a vulture.

Tinak rolled his neck and sighed in respectful defeat. He centered his sights on his own white and teal sand cube and huffed again.

Mace strolled slowly back and forth in front of the class. "Never require your apprentice to accomplish that which you cannot accomplish yourself." He waved an open hand to them all. "Make a tree!"

Obi-Wan was hardly the only one to huff at this order, and he was hardly the only one to meditate for another quick moment before starting the project. The room fell to silence again and Master Windu strolled to the side of the room, standing against the wall beside Master Yoda, out of convenience glance of the eight young Masters while they worked on the elementary project.

Obi-Wan rested his hands on his knees and focused. First, he separated the translucent white on top of the hot pink, a task in itself because the pink sand was heavier than the white and naturally wanted to fall to the bottom. He struggled with the logic of it as much as he struggled with the task itself.

The assignment made no sense _then_ and it made no sense _now_. The homework didn't seem to be graded on success. Some of the ugliest trees got the highest grades. And the assignment was never repeated. The sand cube assignment of the tree was the last of all assignments involving sand cubes. This was, in fact, the first time Obi-Wan had seen one in a classroom setting since he was seven-years-old.

After he separated the sand, he took a moment to gather his wits again before approaching the hard part. He brought up memories of Qui-Gon sitting by him on the couch that day. He remembered the smell of his tunic, the sound of his voice. ' _Give me crazy hair_.'

Obi-Wan grinned inside.

He closed his eyes and brought his mind back to the task, but allowed the warm feeling to stay with him. Obi-Wan concentrated and began to arrange the hot pink sand into a ball, then a cylinder, then a taller cylinder, struggling the entire time to keep it from falling over.

He glanced to Kirano's project to find the other was having the same difficulty with the orange sand in the other cube. Obi-Wan returned his sights to his hot pink mess and began to give 'Qui-Gon' a few arms and carefully strung out cords that would be his 'crazy hair'. He glanced at the painting more than once to get some ideas on how to make it look more like a tree and less like a clay blob of a dead Jedi, but the heavy pink sand refused to stay in place. It kept dribbling deeper into the translucent white even with finest telekinesis instruction to stay put.

Patiently, and meditating frequently to maintain his patience, Obi-Wan accepted his failure and just did the best he could.

Soon enough, Master Windu strolled back to the front of the room and stopped to review the results of each project. Kirano's orange sand looked like a fat cigar with trails of smoke coming out of the top. Obi-Wan's pink branches looked like they were dripping with pink moss. Shisha's looked like—

Windu broke the silence with his loud voice hiked up an octave, "What the _hell_ is that?"

Shisha's meekly grinning eyes stretched up to the standing master.

"Looks like a squid," Windu complained.

Obi-Wan bit his lips together. Kirano sniggered. Shisha grinned and shrugged at the man.

Master Windu continued his stroll. He motioned to the next one. "That's not a tree, that's a bush." Tinak chuckled at himself. Windu waved away Ruku's aqua blue blob. "I don't even _wanna_ know what that's supposed to be."

The eight young masters fought to contain their chuckles of communal failure. Obi-Wan dropped his eyes to his sand cube and the pink blob sculpture of an overly tall stick with crazy hair.

_I miss you._

Mace Windu boomed to them all. " _What_ is the _purpose_ of this assignment?!"

 


	3. SCA 3 Project Results

### Sand Cube Assignment   3          Project Results

…Mace Windu boomed to them all. “ _What_ is the _purpose_ of this assignment?!” He clasped his hands in front of him and looked at each of his students one by one.

Tinak smirked, “to make a tree?”

“INCORRECT!” Windu’s voice was strong. He waved Tinak away with his palm and muttered. “Smart ass.”

Kirano smirked. Obi-Wan scratched the side of his scruffy chin.

“ _What_ is the _purpose_ of the sand cube assignment?” Windu boomed again.

Shisha answered. “Fine telekinesis practice?”

“INCORRECT!” Windu yelled at the wall and paced some more.

That’s what Obi-Wan assumed it was. His brows flitted, perplexed.

“ _What_ is the _purpose_ of the sand cube assignment?”

Kirano gestured lightly as he offered, “Impressionistic art?”

Windu turned to him with his baldhead wrinkled. “Explain.”

Kirano motioned to the painting. “The assignment is to make a tree and we are given the assignment with a picture of a tree in view, subconsciously guiding us toward what it’s _supposed_ to look like. But the transparent sand is always lighter than the opaque, making it difficult, if not impossible, to recreate the picture before us with the tools provided.”

Deeply interested, Windu turned his shoulders toward Kirano from across the room and listened.

Kirano concluded, “Thus, one must sacrifice _exactness_ of the mission in order to accomplish the _likeness_ of the mission.”

Windu crossed his arms at his chest and reiterated. “The spirit of the doctrine versus the letter of the doctrine.”

Kirano nodded. “Yes, Master, that’s another way to put it.”

Windu frowned as he nodded deeply and with approving consideration. He peeled his back from the wall again and strolled toward Kirano. He bowed a little so he could look the young master in the eye, saying it loud and succinct. “INCORRECT!”

Obi-Wan wasn't the only one to chuckle into his own chest at all this. Even Master Yoda behind him seemed to be humored by Master Windu's comedic anger.

Master Windu pointed at Kirano as he turned to stroll away again. “Good guess, though. I like that one.”

“Thank you, Master.”

Master Windu stopped his boots in front of the pink blob in the cube and eyed Obi-Wan. “What do you think, Master Kenobi?”

Obi-Wan lifted his head, still smiling, shaking his head, and shrugged to admit it. “Beats me, Master. I don’t know.” Others chuckled with him. He admitted honestly. “I couldn’t do it then; I can’t do it now. I cannot think of _any_ practical application for making a tree in a sand cube.”

Master Windu nudged his boot and kicked Obi-Wan’s cube over. Pink sand splashed into translucent white.

Obi-Wan’s humor bled away to heartache as his eyes watched the hot pink, overly tall tree with crazy hair disintegrate into the translucent earth. He pressed his mouth and secretly meditated again, even as Master Windu continued the instruction.

“That much _is_ correct,” Master Windu muttered and continued his pacing. “In all your years as a Jedi Knight, Padawan or Master, you are never, _ever_ , going to have a mission requiring you to make a tree in a sand cube.” He turned to face them all again. “The purpose of the assignment is not the tree. The purpose of the assignment is not manipulating the sand. The purpose of the assignment is not about accepting failure, or the likeness of the goal in place of the definition of the goal.” He strolled across the room in front of them all.

Obi-Wan opened his eyes, his smile gone, as Master Windu was again walking passed his deliberately destroyed project.

Master Windu’s voice boomed against the walls, impatience building. “WHAT is the PURPOSE of the ASSIGNMENT?”

Obi-Wan stared at the cube fallen sideways, at the pink sand splashed into the white and checked his emotions.

Why did he care so much about his primary school project that it would make him insulted when Master Windu kicked it over? Was it because he worked so hard on it, even when he knew it wasn’t going to be a work of art from the beginning? No. It was something else. It was because Obi-Wan didn’t build an image of a tree in the pink sand; he built an image of _Qui-Gon_.

Obi-Wan’s jaw worked silently at his own admission. He lowered his eyes to his lap, not paying attention to the next guess that Tinak was now posing to the class. He chose instead to address his own straying thoughts and feelings about the tiny incident, soothing the emotional reaction before it grew to a beast, like plucking a tiny weed before it grew into a bush, and long before the seed of the dark side grew into...

…a tree.

Obi-Wan flashed with laughter.

He barely opened his eyes to find them all staring before he shut them again. His chest rumbled with silent humor. He curled over into his own lap, his face turning red as he mentally kicked himself in his own rear end.

“I think we have a winner.” Master Windu seemed to smile and settled himself against the wall again, next to the painting of the tree. “Master Kenobi?”

Obi-Wan opened smiling eyes to Master Windu to find the Master’s eyes carrying a hint of a smile back at him. “Frustration,” Obi-Wan said.

Master Windu rubbed his lips together as he eyed him and nodded calmly. “Correct.”

“Wait.” Kirano blurted. “ _What_?”

“It’s an impossible task,” Obi-Wan put it together only as the words were coming out of his mouth. “And an arbitrary one. You don’t _need_ to do it. And you _can’t_ do it. So _why_ do it? And how hard do you work to get it done?” He looked at Master Windu and chuckled again at his revelation.

“Most importantly,” Master Windu replied in a calm voice. “How do you handle the frustration of failure while you are so focused on success?”

The eight masters grinned at themselves as they soaked this in.

Master Windu continued. “Right now, all eight of your students are home, alone, faced with an impossible assignment. They have no guidance to cool their tempers. And they have been impressed that this assignment is key to their success, for they will not level up to the next year of training without mastering _this skill_.”

Obi-Wan stared at his pink and white disaster and nodded to absorb this, imagining not only his memory of his original assignment but also imagining, and fearing, how Anakin was handling it at this very moment.

“But this assignment has stronger relevance to _your_ training of _your_ student than for the student to practice overcoming frustration.” Mace continued, “Why?” He pointed at Shisha for an answer.

Shisha didn’t disappoint. “How the student handles this will tell us a great deal about where their weaknesses are.”

“Correct.” Windu wagged a finger at Shisha. “Some of your students are going to get creative,” he motioned to Kirano. “Gravity being the nemesis of Telekinesis, they will either make a white tree in the heavier colored sand or make a hanging cave tree and have the branches all pointing down instead of up. For a student who thinks outside of the box, a Master must focus on keeping the student _within the doctrine_ for they are the ones who will have a tendency to stray.”

Obi-Wan stared at his cube as he listened and suspected Qui-Gon was probably one of those types of students.

Master Windu continued, “Some of your students are just going to give up. They will put an effort into it but stop trying long before they reach the pinnacle of their ability. Either because they don’t have your assistance standing there at the time or because they don’t think it’s that important. To these students, you must focus on independent motivation or further impress a Jedi’s Duty, respectively.”

Obi-Wan lifted his eyes to watch Master Windu stroll back and forth as his lecture continued.

“Some students will get so frustrated they will threaten to quit Jedi training entirely,” Master Windu’s eyes didn’t land on Obi-Wan, but they didn’t need to. “Those are the students so focused on their failure not because of the classroom assignment but because they don’t want to disappoint _you_. Those are the students who need to be reminded that Master and Apprentice are a team _;_ and that, regardless of their success, and regardless of any disappointment you may indeed feel, you will work together until there is nothing to be disappointed _about_.”

Shisha muttered, speaking his query aloud. “They may give up on the cube but we must show that we won’t give up on _them_.”

Obi-Wan looked over.

Mace Windu nodded to the other man. “Precisely.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes turned back to land on the pink and white cube. He smiled inwardly.

“The _purpose_ of the sand cube assignment,” Mace Windu concluded with a new but happy shout, “is to _piss them off!"_

Everyone blossomed with mild laughter.

Mace continued, "And piss them off so badly they will clearly reveal to you their worst dark-sided tendency,” he shrugged his hands in the air, “so that _you_ can address it.”

Kirano chuckled again and swished his hand in the air to knock his own sand cube over on the carpet.

“Wait a minute,” Shisha peeped, his eye angled in accusation at Mace Windu. “When Master Del’Cande gave me this assignment, she had a sand cube on her desk with a perfect tree in it.”

“Yeah,” Tinak nodded quickly. “So did Master Plo’Kun. He made a _perfect_ image of a tree in the sand.”

Obi-Wan nodded internally for he remembered that as well. A sand cube with an indisputable figure of a tree sat on the teacher’s desk. Master Plo’Kun never let anyone touch it because he worked so hard on it, but there it was, without continuous effort to keep the sand in place, a perfect tree inside the transparent cube.

Mace Windu turned back to his burlap sack.

Kirano was teasing, almost. “Perhaps Master Windu can demonstrate how it was done?”

With a frown and a nod, Master Windu turned back around with a new cube in his palm. He focused his eyes on the cube and created the image as his fingers blossomed from the cube to show the image he created. Translucent sand quickly shuffled away from a perfect, _perfect_ , green tree.

He held it still on the palm of his hand for all to see. Eight young Masters angled their heads and squinted their eyes, incredulous. Playful deceit tickled the air. It was clear there was more to it than it appeared. And based on Mace Windu’s expression, he wasn’t trying to hide the fact that there was a trick involved.

Tinak smiled wider. He leaned his elbow heavily onto his knee and pointed at his own sloppy project on the floor. “Now do it with that one.”

Master Windu smiled. He closed his hand around the cube and _threw_ it at Tinak. Shisha laughed, already getting it, even as Tinak grabbed the thing out of the air and looked closely at it. As he pulled it up in front of him after being sloshed around in the air, the translucent sand fell away from a fixed figure of a tree like a snow globe. “It’s glued together?”

Obi-Wan laughed so hard he put his face into his palms. Kirano laughed loud and fell backwards on the floor like a defeated bag of grain.

“Are you kidding me?” Tinak continued to laugh. “All this time! The damn thing was glued together!”

Shisha curled over with laughter and snatched it from Tinak’s hand. He shook it upside down and right side up. The tree remained motionless inside the loose translucent sand.

Obi-Wan’s eyes were tearing with laughter. He sat upright and took his turn to play with the magician’s tool a moment before passing it along to Kirano. He shook his head and noticed another lesson within this episode: just because you know something is out of place doesn’t mean Force sense will indicate exactly what it is.

After enough laughter calmed and groans settled, Master Windu, smiling, swiped them all away. “Go to your students.”

Obi-Wan stood and bowed to Masters Windu and Yoda, as did all the others, but the eight young men were still chortling and shaking their heads at each other as they filtered out into the library.

As Obi-Wan parted away from them to head to his quarters, he thought consciously about the next task at hand. “So, Anakin, lets see what your worst dark-sided tendency will be.”

 


	4. SCA 4 Anakin's Answer

** Sand Cube Assignment 4 Anakin's Answer **

Obi-Wan thumbed open the door to their quarters almost expecting to find a sand cube on the table with a perfect tree in it…

But there wasn’t one, only a mild clutter of datapads from where he left his research project to attend a seemingly impromptu Masters’ Meeting.

Anakin was in the living room standing almost as tall and as skinny as the droid he was working on. The machine was in pieces all over the floor. The skeletal frame stood with lighted eyes and polygon head swiveling around in confusion and panic to see its own guts scattered all over the carpet. Anakin held a screwdriver to its neck, intently focused.

Obi-Wan closed the door behind him and hooked his robe on the hanger, sensing an undercurrent of anger cooking in the room, but Anakin’s expression was stoic. The boy didn’t acknowledge his entry or his tardiness.

The young Master stepped down into the living room as his eyes secretly scanned furniture surfaces. Anakin’s other chores were done but, no sand cube anywhere.

Obi-Wan tried to sound as casual as he could, “How was class?”

“Fine.” Anakin peeped. He reached down to rummage through parts on the floor, not looking at the man now sitting down in a nearby chair. Anakin found the piece he was looking for and stood to face the droid again, 'incidentally' turning his back on the elder.

Obi-Wan watched him, his voice was careful. “Did you have any homework?”

“Did it.” The boy peeped a little too quickly.

Obi-Wan rubbed his lips in consideration. He looked around again. “Where is it?”

“At school.”

The Force poked Obi-Wan. It was a lie. A blatant, cold, hard-boiled lie. Obi-Wan still didn’t understand what was going on, but the one thing of which he was absolutely certain was that Anakin’s homework _wasn’t_ at school.

Anakin had lied before, but most of them were little white lies to avoid complication instead of avoiding punishment. Harmless. And not entirely against Jedi doctrine. But that he would lie to his own Jedi Master about schoolwork that was going to get reported anyway gave cause for concern.

 _“Don’t address the lie itself,”_ Master Plo-Kun advised the fledgling Jedi Master not terribly long ago. _“First, address the motivation behind the lie.”_

Obi-Wan considered this as he looked around the apartment again. He sat back in the seat and meditated a moment, reaching out with his thoughts to the refuse bin to see if Anakin followed in his footsteps. The sand cube wasn’t there.

Finally, Obi-Wan asked, “What _was_ your homework?”

“Shapes in a sand cube.” His voice was a little too light, a little too high. Anakin shrugged his shoulders. “It was easy.”

Another lie. Had Obi-Wan not been able to sense the deceit, he would have believed it to be true. Anakin had such a natural talent with the Force that he was a prodigy, but the lack of discipline made the boy a loose cannon. Obi-Wan sat and watched the young man for several minutes, trying to decide the best way to approach this. Anakin still hadn’t entirely revealed his reaction to the assignment, making it impossible to know which weakness Obi-Wan was supposed to address.

The boy kept on working on the droid, distracting himself with the easier task and finding a false calm as the silence dragged on.

“I’ll be back,” Obi-Wan blurted suddenly and got up.

Anakin didn’t answer; he didn’t even look over as Obi-Wan disappeared out the front door, but Obi-Wan was keen to notice that he was being summarily ignored.

In the hall, Obi-Wan paused his feet and absently scratched at his new beard again. He huffed once and marched a half-dozen steps down the hall before stopping and thumbing a door chime.

“Master Kenobi,” Young Bondu opened the door with a bow of respect. “How may I be of service?”

Obi-Wan looked at the teen-aged Twi'lek girl and rubbed his lips curiously. “Do you have a sand cube I can borrow?”

“Certainly. Come in.”

Obi-Wan followed the teenager into the apartment and bowed in greeting to Bondu’s Master. “Pleasant day to you, Master Indara.”

“Pleasant day,” the elder Jedi greeted back, looking up from her datapad with curiosity at the visit. She glanced over as Bondu came out of her bedroom with a sand cube and handed it to Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan caught the other Master’s expression light up as if she said the words aloud. _Ah, that explains it._

“Anakin left his at school,” Obi-Wan told her. A little white lie, but only to avoid complication.

Master Indara spoke kindly but with a specific angle of her chin, “Perhaps you should meditate before returning to your quarters."

Obi-Wan’s eyebrows knitted. He meditated less than an hour ago. He was fine.

“In the courtyard,” Master Indara suggested, her brow arching, “By the _tree_.”

Obi-Wan nodded deeply, taking the hint, but not understanding what the hint was about. He bowed again in thanks and moved to leave.

“Oh! The sand cube assignment with the tree?” Bondu shined bright as she turned away to her higher-level homework, groaning a grin as she left. “I _hated_ that one!”

Two pairs of eyes flicked to Bondu’s back as she walked away, oblivious, then Obi-Wan and Indara’s eyes met again.

Black brows shot into her blue forehead. Master Indara grinned deep and wise.

Obi-Wan grinned back and bowed his chin again. “Thank you. Force be with you.”

“Force be with you,” she said, picking up her work again. Obi-Wan let himself out.

With sand cube in his palm, Obi-Wan turned left instead of right. He curled around the corner at the end of the hall and stepped down into the courtyard that separated the berthing wings.

It was little more than a wide hallway in the open air. Moss grew in the cracks between flagstone. Flowers of white, yellow and neon orange poked their heads from behind planter walls. Green shrubs bordered the backs of stone benches with droid-plucked precision.

Obi-Wan was already deep in thought as he strolled to the single, mature tree in the center of the thin courtyard and sat on the bench that faced it without really looking at anything. His attentions were turned on the apartment above his head and behind him. Anakin was still burying his emotions in the arbitrary droid project, focusing instead on the easier task and turning his back on the difficult one.

 _Sometimes you have to step away from a puzzle and clear your head before the solution will present itself,_ Qui-Gon once told him on this very bench.

Obi-Wan glanced up and over to the patio where their quarters once were. Obi-Wan remembered frequently hanging over the corner of _that_ patio to daydream down upon this very same tree.

But Anakin didn’t do things like that. Anakin hardly meditated unless he was told to. Anakin didn’t let his mind wander or daydream. He didn't step away from anything to clear his head; he either did it or abandoned it. When Anakin wasn’t occupied with an assignment, he occupied his mind with a different project, avoiding the problem instead of allowing his mind to meander its way towards a solution.

Obi-Wan wiped his palm over his face with worry, scratching his beard again before dropping his hand. He clasped his hands loosely in his lap, closed his eyes for a short breathing exercise, and opened them just enough to focus on the base of the tree to meditate…

…and found a sand cube.

Rather, what _remained_ of a sand cube.

The thing smashed against the trunk so hard that it left a dent in the bark. The clear plastic lay shattered in several pieces. Translucent white and violet sand still lay where it dribbled in a tiny, oily blizzard down the front of the tree and onto to exposed roots.

Anger boiled up inside Obi-Wan’s throat. He gritted his teeth and tightened his face, groaning what for most would have been a curse word as he lowered his elbows onto his knees and glared wrathfully at the ground beneath his feet.

 _Fight fire with fire_ , he decided without meditating at all. Obi-Wan shot to his feet and fumed away with a decidedly _less_ than light-sided plan to address this.


	5. SCA 5 Truth be Told

### Sand Cube Assignment   5          Truth Be Told

Obi-Wan stomped into the apartment with the borrowed sand cube in one hand and a small metal box in the other. Anakin was still working on his droid, but this time looked over with alarm at his Master’s smoldering temper.

“Turn off the droid and come here,” Obi-Wan snapped.

He unbuckled his utility belt and unlatched his lightsaber, setting them both where they waited out most uneventful evenings. Anakin followed the order without a peep, not quite realizing what was up until he saw the borrowed sand cube on the round dining table. He sat down and clasped his fingers together on the table in front of him, eyeing the stormy Master with a glare.

Obi-Wan didn’t give him the satisfaction of eye contact as he cleared the table of everything; datawork, napkin holder, spice shaker, _everything_. He set the purple sand cube aside on the table but that was not his focus.

Instead, Obi-Wan stood beside where the boy sat and dumped out contents of the metal box directly in front of the Padawan. Out splashed translucent white sand, violet sand, bits of mulch, dried leaves, dirt, and shards of broken plastic. The mess hit the table and sprayed in all directions, making Anakin wince away. Obi-Wan set the box down with a _slam_ and glared at the kid as he rounded the table to sit down in the opposite chair.

Anakin’s mouth shrunk small and tight.

“You were saying?” Obi-Wan hissed.

Fiery eyes held the man's gaze. The boy’s jaw rippled under a cheek still hinting of baby fat.

Obi-Wan wove his fingers together on the tabletop in front of him, elbows spread wide. “Destroying your homework doesn't get you _out_ of your homework.”

Anakin folded his arms tightly across his chest, his brows knitted.

Obi-Wan motioned to the mess. "Make a tree."

The task was more challenging with the cube in pieces and the sand all over the place. Obi-Wan expected Anakin to ask to use the borrowed cube instead, and he would have let him, _after_ he put considerable effort into making a tree with the littered sand on the table first.

But Anakin didn’t. He just sat there staring back, insubordinate and angry. " _You_ make a tree."

Obi-Wan’s voice was low and freakishly calm. “It’s not my assignment.”

Thankfully, Anakin didn’t ask what his assignment was. The boy just started back with expert defiance…

… and Obi-Wan stared back…

… for several…

… long…

… minutes…

He couldn't get anywhere with the kid's _results_ of the homework if the kid didn't _do_ the homework. Obi-Wan's hands clawed against the table. “ _Anakin—"_

"I can't!" Anakin shouted back, his face burning red.

Finally, he was getting somewhere. But Obi-Wan didn’t let it show in his face. “Did you _try_?”

“Of course I tried!” Anakin shouted as he shot up from the table. He stomped around and waved his arms. “It’s a stupid assignment! I can thread a nut on a bolt with the Force! I can comb my own hair with the Force! Those things I can do! Things I might _need_ to do someday!” He stomped his feet in punctuation with his sentences. “There is _no_ reason _why_ I should _ever_ have to a make a _tree_ in a _sand cube_!”

Obi-Wan carefully observed the temper tantrum for clues and began to understand…

Anakin finished his tirade with the crossing of his arms and the boy’s voice was suddenly calm and confident once again. “So I’m not going to.”

Obi-Wan pointed at the mess. "You can't level up without completing this assignment."

"That's ridiculous!" Anakin whined. "They made an exception about my age. They can make an exception about this too."

Obi-Wan checked his temper before pointing out. "Everyone else had to do this assignment."

Anakin shook his head. "Maybe they needed someone to refuse so they can see just how _stupid_ this one is." He turned away with a huff and stepped back down to his droid.

He shifted his tone to put in laymen's terms for the kid. "We're not civilians, Anakin. Jedi don't skip homework just because they 'don't feel like it'."

Anakin snapped back, "Jedi don't waste their time on minutia either!"

Obi-Wan flattened his palms on the tabletop at the kid’s audacity. “That’s it, isn’t it?”

Anakin paused his feet and looked back at him.

"Arrogance." Obi-Wan saw it as clear as day now, almost calm inside his own anger. “It’s all so easy for you that you’re _too good_ to do the arbitrary tasks."

Anakin’s jaw rippled. He paused at the droid but didn't turn it on just yet.

Obi-Wan pushed to his feet behind the table. “Qui-Gon put the idea in your head that you were special and now you’re just _too good_ for the rest of us!”

Anakin spun back to him, “That’s not true!"

 _“Isn’t it?!_ ” Obi-Wan balled his fists and yelled back at him. “Yes, you’re a damn natural but that does _not_ excuse you from doing the same homework as everyone else!”

Anakin’s teeth flared. His jaw crunched. “Qui-Gon didn’t follow the rules! Why do _I_ have to?”

Obi-Wan exploded. “QUI-GON ISN’T HERE!”

“BECAUSE OF _YOU_!” Anakin whipped a pointed finger at him.

The words kicked Obi-Wan in the chest and knocked the wind right out of him.

Anakin stomped back to the table and fired more accusations at the man, “Qui-Gon isn’t here _because of you_!”

Obi-Wan shook his head and tried to catch his breath. “That’s not fair.”

Anakin’s shout echoed against the walls. “You said so yourself you shoulda run faster! You said so yourself you shouldn’ta fallen off the catwalk! If you were by his side where you were _supposed_ to be, Qui-Gon would _still be here_!”

Obi-Wan gritted his teeth hard and glared at the little-

“I left my mother _behind_ to train under _Qui-Gon_! NOT _YOU_!”

Angry tears threatened to leak from Obi-Wan’s squinting eyes. His voice was a rough whisper. “I see. You’re not too good for everyone else; you’re just too good for _me_.”

Anakin didn’t confirm it but Anakin didn’t deny it either. Instead, he whipped a hand in the direction of the table and the Force sent the mess of sand splashing toward the kitchen in an even bigger mess. “I’m too good for this stupid sand cube homework, that’s for sure!”

Obi-Wan pointed hard at the table, his voice rising back to a shout. “If you’re that damn good, then show me!”

Anakin curled his lip at the man and turned his shoulders away with a grumble. “I don’t have to prove anything to you.”

Obi-Wan stomped to him but Anakin was already at the door. Obi-Wan’s hands grabbed only handfuls of air as he hissed, “Come back here you little—

The door slid closed right in front of his nose.

Palms resting on both sides of the door jam, Obi-Wan dropped his forehead on the panel and huffed out a long, shaking sigh.

 

 


	6. SCA 6 Tamal Pies

** Sand Cube Assignment 6 Tamal Pies **

It took only minutes for Obi-Wan to calm himself down but an hour before he admitted he still had no idea what to do about all this.

 _It’s okay for a Jedi to ask for some help,_ Qui-Gon’s supportive voice echoed in his memory, but Obi-Wan wasn’t ready to face the council about this yet. Although Jedi were not prone to _I told you so_ ’s, Obi-Wan knew he’d see it in Master Yoda’s eyes anyway.

He sensed out to detect Anakin’s presence in the north wing of the Temple. The boy wasn’t threatening to quit, just threatening to quit _him_. And Obi-Wan began to wonder if it was a good idea, probably one the council would support, but Obi-Wan’s own young and overflowing well of testosterone for competition didn’t want to give in to the little brat so easily. Besides, the last thing Anakin’s arrogance needed was more fuel of confirmation that he was right.

Obi-Wan decided he would go for some guidance from somebody before the night was out, but first needed to step away from the puzzle and clear his head. He left the Temple at dusk on a slow stroll to nowhere, disappearing into the expansive stretches of city. The sky colored itself peach and purple behind glistening glass towers. Music poured from nightclubs and laughter from restaurants. Obi-Wan moved like a lazy salmon, pushing up-river against the tide of pedestrians just to end up nowhere special.

In time, perhaps out of habit or some forgotten memory, his boots found themselves standing on the dirty welcome mat of a greasy, backwater diner in Coco Town.

Obi-Wan lifted his weary face to the dingy restaurant and remembered his first time walking in here…

“ _Qui-Gon_!” A giant frog-man had crooned from the window.

“Hello, Dex,” Qui-Gon grinned coolly back.

“Take a seat! I’ll be right with ya.”

Qui-Gon turned to usher his young apprentice into the booth seat ahead of him. He ordered a pair of waters and two dinners of fish sticks. Obi-Wan remembered thinking that they had just eaten and concluded Qui-Gon was being a patron only to repay the business-owner informant.

The giant, four-armed creature waddled up wearing a filthy apron and a gritty smile. Dex squished his body into the booth seat opposite Qui-Gon but looked first at the new face in the corner. “And who is this strapping young hero?”

Qui-Gon’s mouth carried its usual calm grin. “Dex, my friend, this is Obi-Wan Kenobi, my apprentice. Obi-Wan, this is Dex. He’s the owner of this fine establishment.”

Obi-Wan fought not to let his expression change in disagreement to Qui-Gon’s description of the place. He nodded his chin in a polite bow at the beast. "It's an honor to meet you."

Dex leaned deep over the table at the boy as if in secret. “I heard a rumor that Jedi Apprentices don’t like tamal pies. That’s not true, is it?”

Obi-Wan’s brows wrinkled. He began to answer, but his mouth parted when he sensed the not-so-sneaky deceit coming from the cook. Obi-Wan stopped himself and glanced to his Master for a clue. Qui-Gon’s eyes shined down at him, his grin bright behind his beard.

Qui-Gon’s eyes nodded.

“No, sir,” young Obi-Wan assured in a manner most serious about this grave misunderstanding, “that’s not true at _all_.”

Dex grumbled and scratched his big belly. He looked to Qui-Gon as if questioning Obi-Wan's honesty and curled his rubbery lip with incredulity at the kid. “I don’t believe you.”

Obi-Wan blinked at the insult.

“I think you need to prove it to me.”

Obi-Wan eyed the old, creepy miner until he noticed Qui-Gon’s shoulders were shaking with silent laughter.

“Flo!” Dex crooned to the kitchen. “We need a slice of tamal pie over here!”

“Comin’ right up, honey!...

Obi-Wan grinned at the memory. He scratched his new beard and found his way to an empty booth without hellos. Dex was too busy cooking to notice him come in, but it wasn’t long before the scratchy voice smiled from the kitchen window. “Hey, Obi-Wan! Just in time! I’ve got a pie about to come out of the oven!”

“No, no. That’s all right.” Obi-Wan gestured his decline in the air as he settled into the booth, wanting to point out that he was a grown-up now. “I’m just here for supper.”

Dex gave him a look like he had a mushroom growing out of his head. “You sure?”

“I’m sure.” Obi-Wan grinned calmly from across the distance, meeting Dex’s eyes with sincerity. He thanked the droid for the menu and ordered a tea but found Dex’s eyes still on him from the kitchen when the droid rolled away.

Obi-Wan shrugged with humor at the other man. “Can’t I ever just come here to eat?”

“Uh. Okay.” Dex’s big head disappeared and sounds of sizzling meat poured forth again.

 _Perhaps this is best_ , Obi-Wan thought as he gazed at the nighttime cityscape through the window. _I’m hardly the top-performing Jedi. An apprentice with Anakin’s skill deserves someone far more accomplished than me._

A plate of fish sticks showed up in front of him. He muttered thank you and reached for the spice shaker.

_Who would train him, however, if not me? I was the only one stupid enough to go against the council about it in the first place._

Obi-Wan dashed red spice over the fish sticks and stared at it a long time.

He whispered down at his plate, “I should have run faster.”

“So!” Dex squeezed into the booth opposite of Obi-Wan’s cholesterol-drowned dinner. “What can I do for ya?”

Obi-Wan blinked away his thought and lifted a meek smile to the old cook. “Honestly, Dex, I’m only here for supper.”

“Oh fodder!” Dex cussed with a grumble of laughter. “I don’t care what Jedi tricks you got up your sleeve, you ain’t gonna convince me that Mister Tea and Crumpets came all this way just for my slop fish sticks!”

Obi-Wan smiled genuinely and put the spice shaker back in its side table holster. “I just needed to get away for a tic, that’s all.”

Dex leaned in, his deep voice supportive. “You wanna talk about it?”

“No.” Obi-Wan smiled kindly and shook his head. “I already know what I have to do. I just want to eat before I do it.”

Dex watched Obi-Wan pick up his fork and start to cut a bite. “Okay.” He shuffled out of the booth with a groan and waddled back toward the kitchen. “Let me know if you change your mind.”

“Thanks, Dex,” Obi-Wan muttered appreciatively.

Obi-Wan thought long and hard as he ate his meal, watching the pedestrian traffic through the window. He thought about how to broach the subject with the council, to which Master he would address it, and whom should finish Anakin’s training in his stead.

The droid cleared his half-empty plate and Obi-Wan blinked awake to fumble at his belt for his credit chip.

Then Anakin walked in.


	7. SCA 7 A Little Help

### Sand Cube Assignment      7        A Little Help

Obi-Wan's heart skipped a beat in the brief hope that Anakin's attitude had shifted, but the boy's eyes landed hard when they found him. The kid's mouth was still pinched with defiance.

 _"Qui-Gon's defiance I sense in you."_ Yoda once told him. At the time, Obi-Wan took it as a compliment, but now he was beginning to understand a Jedi Master's perspective of the trait. Defiance was an insult to a Master's authority, and Anakin was wielding it deliberately.

Obi-Wan chomped his jaw shut and looked out the window again. He focused to cool his own temper before it got out of hand this time.

The tall boy climbed into the booth with a quiet scolding. "I've been lookin' all over for you."

Flo's voice pierced the air like sour milk, "You wanna refill?"

Obi-Wan shifted his attention and gathered his manners. "Yes, please." He absently fidgeted with his teacup while the droid paused for Anakin's order too.

Anakin glared over. "Water," he said it as if it should have been obvious, "with ice."

The droid rolled away.

They were both silent, both avoiding eye contact, and the waitress droid returned a minute later with their orders. Obi-Wan muttered a polite thank you but didn't drink his tea. Anakin didn't say anything to the droid and gulped down the water before the glass hit the table.

Finally, Anakin muttered, "Master Windu said I might find you here."

Obi-Wan sat back in the seat and shrugged his fingers on the tabletop. "Just getting some supper."

Anakin's eyes trailed out the window, looking hurt.

"You and I both needed to calm down." Obi-Wan's tone was as crisp as the water in Anakin's glass.

"I didn't leave to calm down," Anakin argued.

Obi-Wan rubbed his lips together. "I know."

Anakin glared out the window, but a thin veil of guilt eked out on the Force. "I went to ask the council for a different Master."

Obi-Wan clasped his hands together in his lap. After a pause, he shrugged his thumbs. "What did they say?"

"They wouldn't see me," Anakin said, tight lips rippling. "Only Master Windu came out to talk to me."

Obi-Wan wasn't surprised by that. He angled his head and eyed nothing in the air. "And?"

Anakin folded his hands tightly on the table and stared at his own fidgeting thumbs. "He wanted me to recommend another master who believed in me as much as you did." He refused to meet Obi-Wan's eyes as he admitted it. "I couldn't think of one."

Obi-Wan kept his expression stoic despite the reluctant compliment. He suspected Mace sent the boy out here with apologies, but if they weren't going to come from the heart, Obi-Wan wasn't sure what good it would do.

Obi-Wan sighed. "You are very gifted, Anakin, but talent alone won't bring you success. Pride brings upon frustration. You won't succeed at everything." He shook his head. "No one does."

He detected a shred of humility in Anakin's eyes.

Obi-Wan said it clear and firm. "But I _do_ believe you can overcome it… _if_ you work for it."

Anakin's mouth worked to try to stay tense but softened despite it. "I know."

Silence fell upon the table again. Obi-Wan was calmer now and he could tell Anakin was trying to yank pride into check. Anakin slurped his water and set it down in front of him. He fingered the droplets of condensation, brows hard, mouth pinched, trying to work his way up to it.

Obi-Wan almost didn't care anymore. Even if the lad managed an apology, Obi-Wan wasn't sure if he could accept Anakin forgiveness for saying the same things he felt himself.

"I'm sorry I said those things," Anakin finally muttered, his eyes stretched to stare at nothing out the window. "I know you did everything you could to save him. I just wanted to blame somebody."

Obi-Wan let his eyes shift back to look at the boy's face, sensing the pain in Anakin's heart, the anguish. It was like an emotional filth swept under the surface for so long it had hardened to a permanent crud.

But Obi-Wan turned his eyes out to the window too, for, on this topic, Obi-Wan was beginning to have the same problem. He needed to let Qui-Gon go. And he knew it. The attachment was poisoning him. The guilt was gnawing at him. And this little 'pathetic life-form' poking salty words into the still bleeding wound prevented it from healing on its own.

 _I didn't take him away from you,_ Obi-Wan grumbled in his mind. _You took him from me first._

Obi-Wan closed his eyes to reel in his thoughts, and then he _recognized_ his thoughts. The source of Obi-Wan's pain wasn't about how Qui-Gon _died_ ; it was about how Qui-Gon _discarded_ him. Obi-Wan still felt the slice between his shoulder blades from when Qui-Gon stepped up in front of the Council that night and announced he would take on Anakin as his own apprentice… as if he didn't have one already.

In truth, Qui-Gon was simply trying to juggle two students that needed him _and_ a Council that was already weary of his insubordination. But for that short time the three of them were together, Qui-Gon unwittingly began a tug of war; a war he didn't live long enough to resolve.

And now Obi-Wan and Anakin were fighting over the affections of a dead man.

Anakin muttered, sincere now. "I just miss him, is all."

Obi-Wan's throat was too tight to talk. "Me too." He swallowed hard to get his voice back. "More than you know."

Their eyes met for a moment, but Obi-Wan turned away and forced himself to say it, "But he's gone."

So many words gurgled up to finish that statement with something else, if only to continue the _sentence_. Obi-Wan wanted to tack on any memory to cling to, any idiom to pray to, any sliver of the Code to meditate to, just so the thought itself wouldn't end. But the truth was as stark and as cold cut as the incomplete life to which it referred.

_He's gone._

Obi-Wan rubbed his eyelids with thumb and forefinger and stared painfully out the window.

"And now you're stuck with me, right?" Anakin accused sorely.

Obi-Wan sniffed hard, but he didn't have to fight this one so much. "And you're stuck with me," he returned, angling his head to point it out. "Because that's what our master felt was best."

Anakin's eyes flicked to him and Obi-Wan kept his gaze.

 _Our_ master.

Anakin absorbed that and loosened his jaw with a thought. "He _was_ a good master." Anakin nodded, carefully eyeing Obi-Wan for his response to it. "Wasn't he?"

"The _best_ ," Obi-Wan smiled through his pain and admitted this part with ease. "Better than me by light-years."

The corner of Anakin's mouth stretched a half-grin. Obi-Wan shrugged his eyebrow and sat back, breaking the gaze to sip his tea.

Anakin's expression altered as he made a decision.

The boy reached down to his hip and rummaged out the borrowed sand cube. The purple and white sand was a stew from the trip in his pocket. He set it on the table between them and folded his hands together again. He angled his chin to Obi-Wan with a challenge. "I need to know you can do it."

Obi-Wan's eyes narrowed.

"And then _I'll_ do it," Anakin promised firmly. "I just— I need to see you do it first. And if you can, I'll do anything you ask," his tone was decisive, "from here on out."

Part of Obi-Wan was eager for the clear contest with the boy, convinced the undisciplined and marginally-trained eleven-year-old could do no better at the homework than he, but something whispered in Obi-Wan's subconscious not to give in so easily.

He narrowed his eyes at Anakin and began to shake his head. "Mm… No."

Anakin's mouth twisted.

Obi-Wan lifted his eyebrows and soured his frown, dismissing the offer entirely. He leaned forward over the table and leered hard at Anakin with a firm mouth behind his new beard. "After what you said to me today? If you want me to continue to be your Master," he pointed hard at the sand cube between them and nudged it back at the kid, "you need to prove to me you're _worth my time_."

Anakin's jaw rippled as he stared at him…

Obi-Wan knitted his brows to stare right back…

Anakin curled his lip.

Obi-Wan curled his more.

Anakin barred his teeth.

Obi-Wan scrunched his mouth.

Anakin smiled. "Okay," He gave in and sat back, but he shot forward again and wagged a finger at Obi-Wan's nose. "But you gotta promise you gonna show me up when I'm done."

Obi-Wan sat back and shrugged his fingers. "Fair enough."

Anakin placed his palms on the table on either side of the cube and stared at the thing. The boy sighed hard, focused harder, and fumbled with the Force.

The purple sand separated from the white in record time. Anakin paused for a breath and refocused to pull up a column of purple through the middle of the white sand. One by one, he nudged out three naked branches from the trunk and spun out three skinny sticks from each branch. It was mildly sloppy as the boy could not yet control his own power, but it looked more like a tree, regardless of its lack of leaves, than anything Obi-Wan ever saw.

(Without glue.)

"There." Anakin flopped back into the booth and motioned to it with a shrug of defeat. "That's the best I got."

Obi-Wan shrugged with bland dismissal. "S'not bad."

"Your turn." Anakin threw down the challenge again, whipping his fingers in the air at the man _gangsta'_ style. "Show me whatchyou got!"

Obi-Wan pressed a sinister grin as if he were about to amaze the boy with his skill. He sat up in the seat and eyed Anakin with an arrogant glare of his own while his palm shook the cube back into a mess and slapped it down on the table between them. With an aggressive flick of his shoulders, Obi-Wan tucked away the sleeves from his forearms and knotted his two eyebrows into one as if to say, _Watch this._

With a deep, slow sigh, Obi-Wan calmed his mind and focused his sights on the sand cube.

The sand separated as though the table shook from an earthquake. A stick poked up through the white sand like a sapling, skinny at first, then curling toward the sky as it grew tall and fat, like a stop-motion video of a living sprout growing into a mature oak. The center column pulsed into a stronger existence as if it had blood vessels, completing an image so detailed that ripples of bark scraped up the trunk. A pair of branches poked out as the trunk grew fatter still. Both branches simultaneously split with locks of smaller twigs. The top of the tree sprayed out cilia to bloom into a full canopy. Then, all at once, upon each of its hair-thin branches, sprouted a tiny, spade-shaped, paper-thin leaf.

The whole thing was completed in a less than a minute.

Blue marbles bulged out of Anakin's eye sockets. His jaw was on the floor. "That's _amazing_!"

Obi-Wan sat back again with a smug smack of his mouth. He sipped his tea and checked his fingernails with cool victory as Anakin groveled.

"How did you do that?" Anakin crooned.

Obi-Wan's eyebrows were in his forehead but his lids weighed heavily over his eyes. He blurted the first answer that came to his mind, " _Discipline_."

Anakin shook his head with shock and wonder, looking at this perfect, _perfect_ , tree from all angles. "All right," he groaned in defeat. "You win." Anakin angled his head to study the detail with amazement, still not believing it, but accepting it. "You win."

Obi-Wan pointed hard across the table at the kid. " _Anything_ I say."

"From here on out," Anakin agreed, raising his palms with respectful failure and laughing in his disbelief at the expert sand sculpture. He shook his head again with bewilderment.

Dex waddled to them and leaned a giant hand on the back of Anakin's booth seat. He grumbled disapprovingly at the boy, "You know, I heard a rumor about you Jedi kids."

"What rumor?" Anakin shot back at the implied insult.

"I heard you guys don't eat tamal pies."

Anakin blinked back like the idea was insane. "Well, that's just dumb."

Dex lifted his swelling chin to look down his nose at the boy. "Prove me wrong."

Anakin straightened his back and batted the challenge it right back at him. "Bring me a pie and I will!"

Dex chuckled as he returned to the kitchen and Anakin shined a victorious smile about the easiest slice of pie he ever conned out of anyone.

But Obi-Wan took the moment to gaze at the sand cube with curious wonder…

Until his attention was yanked away by the sound of Dex's calling voice, "Obi-Wan? You want a slice of pie too?"

Obi-Wan disciplined himself not to dwell. He nudged the cube away from his attention and rolled his eyes toward the kitchen window, calling out with a comic groan of capitulation. "Oh, I _suppose_ …"

At Obi-Wan's careless nudge, the sand cube knocked onto its back, but not entirely shattering the tree into nothing. The leaves disintegrated, but the trunk and two thick branches were still largely intact. The whole thing shifted up against the original ceiling, smashing the canopy into the top of the cube.

A splash of white sand covered part of the thick trunk to blot out a half-circle smirk and two smudge eyes, as if the tree was peeking up toward the ceiling its head was bumping into… and grinning quietly at its own mess of crazy hair.

* * *

_Written by Cass Eastham_

_Thanks for reading._


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